


Unforgivable

by tablrcloth



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Confrontations, Crying, Explosions, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Stabbing, Swearing, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28742889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablrcloth/pseuds/tablrcloth
Summary: The tunnel ends and opens up into a familiar room, familiar words engraved on the wall. Wilbur is standing at the edge of the room, and Tommy doesn’t need to see the button to know it’s there.“Wil?” he asks, and Wilbur chuckles.-When Phil isn't there to confront Wilbur right before the explosions, Tommy has to do it himself.So what does he have to do when Wilbur hands him the sword?
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 17
Kudos: 357





	Unforgivable

**Author's Note:**

> writing specifically about the dream smp characters not the creators!!! if anyone featured is uncomfortable i will take it down immediately!!
> 
> alternate universe where tommy has to kill wilbur instead of phil. be mindful of the tags and read at your own risk. this was painful to write :,)
> 
> enjoy the read!

Tommy is the only person to notice Wilbur when he slips away.

They’d just won back Manberg- Schlatt died of a heart attack, and the presidency was exchanged like a game of hot potato until it eventually landed on Tubbo. As everyone clapped and Tubbo laughed nervously up on that podium, looking incredibly small compared to the towering chair behind him, and he gave his shaky impromptu speech, Wilbur turned and walked away.   


Tommy watches Wilbur as he disappears behind the hill, a pit of dread beginning to open up in the bottom of his stomach. He knew exactly where Wilbur was walking, and he couldn’t help the betrayal he feels. Wilbur promised. He  _ promised  _ he wouldn’t blow up the country if they won...

Tommy forcibly shakes himself out of his trance and jogs past the festival decorations and onto the path, passing the man made ponds and Party Island as he jumps across the hill and along the side of the cliff. He can see Wilbur’s trench coat flapping in the wind, before it disappears behind a crag of rock. The emptiness in Tommy’s gut increases and his panic grows. Wilbur was walking to the button room.

Tommy swings around the rock face and sprints down the tunnel dug out of the hill, his footsteps loud against the stone. He can hear Wilbur mutter something, and slows down minutely, just to hear it:   


“Chekhov’s gun,” he whispers, and Tommy’s breathing stops; he knew exactly what those words entailed.

The tunnel ends and opens up into a familiar room, familiar words engraved on the wall. Wilbur is standing at the edge of the room, and Tommy doesn’t need to see the button to know it’s there.   


“Wil?” he asks tentatively, and Wilbur chuckles slightly.   


“Tommy,” he says coolly, and turns around to face him. There’s a sardonic little smile on his face, and the dread in Tommy’s gut boils into rage.   


“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”   


“I’m doing what I promised I’d do,” Wilbur snaps, and turns back around. “Don’t act like you’re surprised.”   


“Wilbur- Wil- no, just- please,” Tommy rushes, hand reaching out in desperation, before he throws down his sword and shield with a clatter as a show of peace. “You said you wouldn’t, you  _ promised!” _   


“You’ve tried convincing me before,” Wilbur scoffs. “It’s not going to work now.”   


The room shakes as a firework cracks in the air outside the hill, bits of rock and dust shuddering down from the ceiling, and Tommy stumbles to the side. “What was-” he begins to question, before he glances back at Wilbur, who’s facing him. “Wilbur...?”   


“FUCK!” Wilbur shouts, slamming his hand against the wall, and Tommy flinches, taking another step back, but when their surroundings fail to explode he realizes he didn’t hit the button. “I have been here,  _ so  _ many times, and not once I’ve hit this button- I’ve threatened it so much, and at this point it’s a  _ fucking _ joke. I’ve got to follow through.”   


“No, you don’t,” Tommy begs, leaning forward. More fireworks crack in the background, but he isn’t paying attention. “Wilbur, please listen, we- we worked so hard for all this, man! And now you’re gonna just- you’re just- gonna blow it all up!”   


“I told you, Tommy,” Wilbur says, voice hushed, and he turns to look at him. Tommy stares at him, searching his eyes. “I told you. I’m a villain, aren’t I?”   


“We don’t have to be that!” Tommy shouts, panic and fear bleeding into his stance as he spreads his arms. “We got L’manberg back, we don’t- we can rebuild! We can change it all back!”   


“What’s gone is gone,” Wilbur says, turning back to stare at the button, and Tommy opens his mouth to retort before he’s cut off. “Tommy. Do you remember Eret?”   


“Of fuckin’ course I remember Eret,” Tommy snarls, stepping forward again.   


Tommy can see a smile grow on Wilbur’s face, even though his back is turned. “Remember what he said?”   


“Wilbur...?”   


“It was never meant to be,” Wilbur says, a grin in his voice, and his fist slams against the button.   


“WILBUR!” Tommy screams, reaching forward to shield his brother as Wilbur raises a hand in a salute, and then the earth explodes.   


Tommy is thrown backward, head slamming against the rocky ground as the sounds of explosions cause his ears to ring. He tries to breathe, but he can’t; the wind is knocked out of him, and he tries to take stuttering breaths in place of deep ones. He opens his mouth to groan but starts choking on the smoke, hacking on dust and soot.

The ringing in his ears fades to a dull whine and he holds an arm over his mouth, coughing. Faintly, he recognizes the sound of distant screaming, before he stumbles into a standing position, eyes opening fractionally to survey the damage. “L’manberg?” he whispers, forcing himself to breathe as he steps forward and waves away the smoke around his head, opening his eyes wider to see better.   


He looks out across the nation from the gaping hole in the wall. He can only see thick black smoke, but the wreckage is outlined; Tommy didn’t recognize it at first, as he was looking for familiar buildings that were now blown up. The podium is clearly demolished, along with most important structures. He glances down and chokes on an inhale. There’s a massive crater now opened up in the earth, stone and rubble strewn everywhere. If he squints, he thinks he can see the blackstone of the podium lying at the bottom of the pit. Tommy glances up and watches as people start to get up, and looks around frantically for Tubbo, but can’t spot him anywhere. The air is thick and stinks of destruction, and Tommy briefly wonders if he’s dreaming.   


“I won,” he hears from behind him, and spins around to stare at his brother. Wilbur is clutching his side, a huge grin and a bleeding cut on his face. “I did it. I won.”   


“Wilbur, you- you-” Tommy tries to say, but he can’t come up with anything. His usual insults lie flat on his tongue, and he simply looks back at his country that’s now gone. It’s just a hole in the ground, unrecognizable as the place that once held so much sunshine.

“MY L’MANBERG, TOMMY!” Wilbur shouts, and the sudden noise causes his head to pound. “My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished!”   


“Wilbur,” Tommy says, leaning forward, and Wilbur cackles.   


“I couldn’t have it, and now no one can!” His cackle turns into a cough, and he hacks into his gloved fist. Tommy’s horror is clear on his face when Wilbur looks back up at him, blood clearly smeared on his glove.   


“Tommy,” Wilbur coughs again, staggering off the wall he’s leaning against. He kicks the sword that Tommy dropped on the ground toward him. Tommy picks it up, and when he straightens again he can feel his head throb. “Kill me.”   


“Kill-  _ kill  _ you?” Tommy asks incredulously, squinting at him so as to prevent his headache. “Are you insane? I’m not going to-”   


Wilbur slams his hand against the wall and Tommy flinches violently, the sword almost falling out of his grip. “How much work went into this, and now it’s gone? You remember what you lost for this country, you know  _ exactly _ what you did for it. The lives taken can't be given back. You know you want to kill me.”   


“Wilbur, I-”   


“Do it. Stab me.  _ Murder  _ me.”   


“I- I CAN’T!” Tommy screams, and the sword falls out of his hands, metal clattering on stone. His headache pounds against his head and he starts to cry, tears streaking down his dirty face as he sobs.

Wilbur is silent, and Tommy’s eyes open to stare at the sword on the ground. Wilbur was right, whether Tommy liked it or not. He lost both his lives for this country, he spilled so much blood, he gave up his discs, and now his own brother blew it to smithereens, just like he said he would. Tommy was pissed beyond fucking belief, but Wilbur was still his  _ brother.  _ He couldn’t- would he really kill his own brother?   


He looks back out at his crumbled country, the smoke finally faded into a light gray instead of an opaque black, and he can see Tubbo standing distantly on one of the remaining stone platforms above the crater, staring up at them. They meet eyes, and Tubbo offers him a tiny smile, as though to say  _ it’ll all be okay. _   


Tommy makes his choice without a second thought. He picks up the sword from the ground and plunges it into Wilbur’s front in one swift move. Wilbur chokes slightly, surprised at Tommy’s sudden decision, and Tommy’s eyes widen in horror when he realizes what he’d done. Both of them slide to the ground, Tommy sitting uncomfortably on his legs, and he shifts slightly. The sword jostles and Wilbur gasps, causing Tommy to wince.

“Maybe this isn’t so bad,” Wilbur whispers, smiling at Tommy as blood starts to drip from the side of his mouth, smiling despite the expression of guilt and fear and pain on his brother’s face. “Remember-” he coughs up blood, the red splattering on the ground. “Remember when... we went to the city gardens as children, and I dared you to eat that flower?”   


Tears stream down Tommy’s face as he chokes out a surprised laugh, and he leans forward to sob into Wilbur’s shoulder, the sword inadvertently sliding in further and causing them both to wince. “Yeah, it was a daffodil, I remember it ‘cause it was yellow, and- and then Phil yelled at both of us.”   


Wilbur sighs, the hot breath tingling on Tommy’s ear, and Tommy’s free hands leave the sword and curl onto Wilbur’s back, fists grabbing the fabric of his coat in one last, desperate hug. “Wil, don’t- don’t leave me. Please, Wil,” and the last word is so quiet it could be mistaken for the breeze.

“You won’t need me anymore,” Wilbur whispers back, smiling against his ear. “You were always good on your own.”   


Tommy chuckles at that, but it comes out as a watery sob. “We- we both know that’s not true.” Wilbur doesn’t respond, and Tommy shakes him lightly. “Wil? Wilbur?” he asks, shaking the limp form of his brother more, before pulling back to look at him. Tommy chokes on his breath when his head flops listlessly toward the ground, and he realizes Wilbur isn’t breathing. “Wilbur? Come on, wake up. Wilbur, wake up.”   


Tommy shakes him more, and when Wilbur fails to say anything, he starts to sob again, leaning forward to cry into his dead brother’s shoulder. “You- you always had to prove a point, you- you- please, come back, COME BACK!  _ COME BACK!”  _ Tommy screams, and his heartbroken wail resounds across the land.   


Tommy’s wails continue, echoing around the room and into the crater. He can’t stop screaming, he realizes. Why won’t he stop screaming?

He screams until his voice runs hoarse and his breaths turn into desperate pants. Tommy sniffles into his brother’s coat, before leaning back again and wiping his face. He can feel the soot and dirt smudging on his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, just keeps staring at his brother’s body as though he’ll be reanimated and brought back to life as the old Wilbur he knew, the one that actually _ cared _ for him.

“You couldn’t just win, could you?” he laughs, but it’s bitter and tragic and so full of pain. “You- you had to be as dramatic as possible? Well, you did it, Wil, you, you succeeded. You were dramatic. You were FUCKING DRAMATIC, you just- you- you ruined everything I ever loved, just to spit in my face, and you- you fucking did it. You- I loved you, you were my  _ brother,  _ and you managed to take that away too, you motherfucking son of a- you-” Tommy devolves into sobs again, and he pulls away further, Wilbur’s body collapsing on the ground.

_ What had he done? _


End file.
